


Next Friday

by TwistedHallows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Clubbing, Dancing, Gay Draco Malfoy, Goth Club, M/M, Pining, Top Harry Potter, Unresolved Sexual Tension, go-go dancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedHallows/pseuds/TwistedHallows
Summary: Harry just wanted to branch out and see a different side of living. He never expected to see Draco Malfoy in a muggle club - especially not headlining as a Go-Go Dancer.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 109





	1. Harry POV

**Author's Note:**

> Why, hello there! If you've been here before, you may notice that I've made some changes. If you haven't... thanks for being here!
> 
> I decided that, though I originally marked this as "Complete", it will have at least 3 chapters, though the first two chapters are basically the same, save for one being Harry's POV and the other being Draco's.
> 
> (I will also be updating my rating from M to E because of certain scenes that will come later >>)
> 
> I was originally letting this fic lie, as an "I'll possibly come back to this" but now I know for a fact I have at least another chapter for sure to write, so here we are.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I'm having a lot of fun writing it :)

He should have known this was going to be a terrible idea.

He should have known better than to go.

These establishments were new to Harry; only recently feeling the need to get out of his comfort zone and just live and let go, instead of going through the day to day motions. 

The first time he went out, he didn’t bother with a Glamour - this was a Muggle club, after all, and came highly recommended from none other than Ginny Weasley. They had parted ways amicably, both having realized that they weren’t what the other needed. She only went on what was referred to as Kandi Kid Wednesday, and Harry, after seeing the pictures of her outfits and watching her make the colorful beaded bracelets one day as they hung out, decided that part of the scene wasn’t for him. That’s when she brought up the darker, goth nights they had on the weekends.

“It truly is a goth club, at heart,” she had said, happily stringing some cupcake-shaped charms onto the bracelet she was making, “but they cater to all sorts. They even have BDSM nights sometimes!” Harry hadn’t been too keen on that; he was, after all, just trying something new for the time being. 

That fateful Friday night, he dressed in the outfit Ginny had helped him pick out (nothing too fancy; simply a tight black v-neck shirt that showed off his muscles and a pair of tight dragonhide pants) and apparated a few streets down from the club. He could feel the music before he even saw his destination; the steady thrumming of bass seemed to pound through his feet as he curiously walked towards the source of the noise. He saw other people walking the same way he was; they nodded and smiled and he did the same back. It felt as though he knew them, even though there was practically no way he did - they were Muggles, after all.

Flashing the ID he had created (he didn’t think the club would take too kindly to his Auror badge as ID, though the thought had entertained him), he was granted access and was instantly overwhelmed by heat. To his right was a little alcove with a small bar and an outside area; Ginny had told him that was the calmer area. He was more interested in the staircase to his left, which promised the larger dance floor and live DJ. 

Trying not to seem too eager, he strode up the stairs and paused before the entrance to the dancefloor, taking everything in. Bodies wriggling together, some on beat, some not, but everyone enjoying themselves; some holding drinks, some grinding onto their partners. Harry was mildly surprised to see a number of same-gender couples; he had only recently allowed himself to recognize his own bisexuality, and though he wasn’t ashamed, he wasn’t parading around shouting it to the masses. The Prophet would have a field day.

Steeling himself, he approached the bar and made eye contact with the bartender, who smiled at him in acknowledgement before finishing with her current customers. She leaned towards him and shouted near his ear, “Hey darlin’, haven’t seen you here before! What’ll you be having tonight?”

“First time!” He replied in the same way, shouting slightly to be heard over the music. “Can I please have whatever you think is good?” The bartender withdrew and gave him a wide smile and a nod, whirling away to grab some bottles. She layered grenadine, crushed ice, lemonade, and blue curacao, popping a festive umbrella into the drink and pouring a singular shot of what looked like a citrus vodka before turning back to Harry with a smile, setting the drinks down in front of him.

“On the house, since it’s your first time, love!” She shouted. “You picked a good first day. Dragon will be going into the cage in,” she consulted her wristwatch, “just about five minutes! You’re in for a treat.” With a wink, she turned away and began serving another customer, leaving Harry bewildered. Cage? Dragon? Wasn’t this supposed to be a Muggle club? He downed the shot; he had thought right, it appeared to be a lemon vodka. Shivering from the taste, he took a tentative sip of the red, white, and blue drink and found it sweet but not overly so. He made a mental note to ask the bartender what it was called before he left. 

Harry meandered away from the bar, navigated through a few dancing bodies, and came to a stop closer to the stage area. It was then he noticed a cage suspended above him, and this must have been what the bartender was talking about. Looking around, he noticed a few posters stating, “THE CASTLE PRESENTS DRAGON: GO-GO DANCER. EVERY FRIDAY AT 9PM”. The posters had a close up of bright, grey eyes, and Harry found himself pondering them longer than absolutely necessary. They looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen them before. He didn’t spend a lot of time around Muggles, so he shrugged the thoughts away. No way he could know this ‘Dragon’ character; it was his first time at the club.

The music began to ebb away and a loud voice startled Harry out of his thoughts. “Helloooo, freaks and geeks, are you ready for tonight’s entertainment?!” There was an ear-splitting scream as the dancing bodies stilled and turned their attention to the stage. A ladder descended from the cage and the lights went down. Harry could see the shadow of a lithe figure climbing the ladder, though the lights were so dim he wasn’t able to discern much about the person. They appeared relatively androgenous, and they were definitely skinny and had long hair down to their mid-back. Could be any gender, Harry mused, watching them as they got settled in the cage and with a nod to the MC, the ladder was removed and the lights began to rise again as a relatively slow song came over the speakers. 

Cheers rang out, and as Harry looked up at the person in the cage, he realized that the figure was most definitely male. He had his back to the audience and was swaying his hips in time with the music, his hands behind him and gripping the cage bars. He tossed his head and the long, cascading white-blonde hair moved with him, accentuating the movements of his hips. Bending his knees, he dipped into a squat and bounced for a moment before bringing himself back up, arching his back and twisting to face the audience.

It was then that Harry knew that he was royally fucked.

Dragon. Draco Malfoy. Of-fucking-course. 

But in a Muggle club?

Harry’s brain was short circuiting. He almost dropped his drink. He almost ran away.

He should have run away.

  
But of course he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

It was Malfoy.

It was ALWAYS Malfoy.

He gazed up at his old school rival, who was currently swaying in a very sensual way while mouthing the words, “We can get a little crazy, just for fun, just for fun…” and tried very hard not to shatter his glass. Malfoy was at the Muggle club. Malfoy was Friday night’s entertainment. Malfoy was looking absolutely delicious in his way too tight leather pants and fishnet top…

Ginny had to have known, hadn’t she? He shook his head. She came here a lot, knew about goth night, knew about Fridays… was she having him on? Was she trying to make him go insane? Just because they had broken up, just because he had admitted that his school-boy nemesis may have been something less nemesis and more obsession… he groaned and downed the rest of his drink, hoping it would cloud his mind enough to stop it from racing.

It didn’t. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Neither, it seemed, could anyone else.

Malfoy had rhythm. He moved and swayed with the music; sometimes dipping down, sometimes moving his hands across his chest and legs, and always staring straight into the crowd, seeming to make eye contact with everyone there. There was a moment when, with a jolt, Harry thought Malfoy had caught his eye, but if there was any recognition, he didn’t give anything away. Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest, and the weird stirring in his stomach began moving a little further south as Malfoy continued to dance. The first song had changed to a faster song, and now Malfoy was just standing relatively still and stomping his feet, tossing his head from side to side and letting his long hair sweep across his face.

After a time, the music began to fade again and Malfoy’s dancing slowed to a stop. He glistened with sweat; a few songs ago, he had taken off the fishnet top and tossed it into the crowd. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, smiling down at the crowd, his eyes grey and piercing. He appeared to be looking for someone or something, and Harry melted back into the crowd, slowly backing towards the bar.

He didn’t want Malfoy knowing he was there.

He didn’t want Malfoy to know just how much he enjoyed the performance.

“Pretty hot, huh?” The female bartender who had served him earlier said happily, cleaning out a glass as she leaned towards Harry. “He’s been coming here for a few months; caught the owner’s eye right away. He was always dancing alone, but something about him was just mesmerizing, to everyone.”

“No shit.” Harry said under his breath, watching Malfoy climbing down the ladder. The bartender laughed and extended her hand.

“I’m Alyce,” she smiled. “I expect we’ll be seeing you Fridays from now on?” Harry barked out a laugh.

“More than likely.” He admitted, though he wasn’t completely sure. “I’m… James.” He took Alyce’s hand and shook it. Using his middle name had come easily for him on cases where he had to go undercover, and he decided to remain as anonymous as he could. He made a mental note to create a Glamour that looked relatively close to his actual face so that Alyce would be able to recognize him if he came again. Darken his eyes, remove the scar completely - sure it was hidden under his fringe now but if he wanted to remain incognito then he’d have to cover it up. 

“You want to talk to him?” Alyce asked slyly, her chin resting on the back of her hand. “He’s on his way over here now, he always comes for a drink after he’s done dancing.” Harry started and looked around wildly for any flash of that brilliantly white hair.

“I… I don’t think I”m ready for that just yet,” he whispered faintly, “First time, you know?” Alyce threw her head back and laughed.

“Of course, darlin’. He is a bit… intimidating.” She passed Harry a smaller version of the posters that were hanging up around the club. “Here, in case you need reminding.” With a wink, she turned away, leaving Harry to stare into the eyes of Draco Malfoy - Dragon, this club’s star go-go dancer. 

He was going to have a talk with Ginny.

* * *

“Harry, I swear to you, I didn’t know!” Ginny pleaded earnestly the following Wednesday, the first day he was able to corner her. She was at her flat putting together her outfit for that night’s event: a rave, headlining DJ Hixxy. Harry had burst his way through the door (okay maybe not burst; they were friends, he did have a key after all) and had used all of his Auror tactics to crowd and intimidate her. She easily pushed past him and continued lacing up her neon yellow boots, glancing up at him every now and then as he breathed heavily and tried to get ahold of himself.

“There were posters up everywhere,” he enunciated, waving the smaller version that Alyce had given him in her face, “EVERYWHERE, Gin. HOW could you not know?” Ginny straightened up and turned to look at him slowly, one eyebrow raised.

“Did anyone you saw on Friday look like _this_ ?” She indicated her outfit, which was a myriad of neon colors. Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. “That’s your answer, then. They redecorate for different nights, Harry. I don’t go to goth nights. I only suggested it because you thought that this,” she gave a little twirl, “was too _intense_ for you.”

“Malfoy’s dancing was too intense.” Harry muttered under his breath, hoping Ginny wouldn’t hear.

“You liked it and are going back in two days.” Damn it, she heard. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know you, Harry James Potter. You know why we broke up.” Harry cringed. He hated talking about it and absolutely refused to bring it up.

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts!” Ginny cut him off. “You said you were going to use a Glamour for next time. What were you thinking? Blond? Red hair?” She smirked as Harry scrubbed a hand through his black tresses.

“I already made friends with the bartender,” he confessed, “I was thinking of just covering my scar and changing my eye color for the most part. I don’t want to cause too many issues.” Ginny hummed in agreement and turned back to her full length mirror, adjusting her crop top.

“Okay, I’m going to give you advice that I probably should have given you before you went the first time.” She turned resolutely to face Harry, arms crossed. “Rule one - and you should know this from being an Auror - don’t you dare take drinks from someone if you didn’t watch them being poured.” Harry opened his mouth to argue but it died in his throat as Ginny raised a hand. “Ah, not done yet. Rule two - dance, Harry. Go before Malfoy goes on stage…”

“The cage,” he muttered, causing Ginny to roll her eyes.

“Whatever. Go before his set and dance. Stay after and dance. Make some _friends_ , Harry, that was the whole point of this. Letting loose and finding people with similar interests.” She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips now, and Harry knew that whatever rule three was going to be would be a doozy.

“Do I even _want_ to know rule three?”

“I think you already know what it’s going to be, Harry, and you’re not going to like it very much. Rule three - don’t even think about getting involved with Malfoy while wearing a Glamour.” 

There it was.

“I… I don’t want to get involved with Malfoy.” Harry stuttered, knowing that it wasn’t exactly true. “I just… it was a shock to see him, you know? And he did dance well. And he looked… good.” He finished lamely. Ginny reached out and grabbed his hands, making eye contact and smiling a sad smile.

“We don’t want to lead people on, Harry. Falling in love with one person when they’re actually another… that’s not good, for either of you. If you want Malfoy, then be yourself.” She pulled him into a hug and broke away, wiping under her eyes carefully. “I can’t cry now, it took me ages to get this on. Get out of my house, Harry Potter, I have a rave to finish getting ready for.” She turned back to the mirror and Harry realized that he was being dismissed. 

“Thanks, Gin. Have fun tonight.” He turned towards the door as she waved him out, humming quietly to herself. She had a point, he knew she did. Maybe he wouldn’t wear the Glamour. Maybe he would dance. Maybe he would talk to Malfoy… there were a lot of maybes, and he had no idea which direction he was going to go.

* * *

He wore the Glamour.

He covered his scar, he dimmed his eyes to a deep chocolate brown, and showed up to the club on Friday just on the cusp of 9pm.

He broke two of Ginny’s ‘rules’ but he pushed the guilt away. This wasn’t about Ginny, after all.

He just wanted to see Malfoy again.

Maybe talk to Malfoy.

Maybe… dance with Malfoy.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he made his way to the bar and waved to Alyce. It took her a moment to recognize him, but then a wide smile and a nod told him that she’d be over in just a moment.

“Hey James, welcome back!” She shouted, “Want another Bomb Pop?” Ah, so that was the name of the drink. He smiled and nodded, and she went about making him another of the red, white, and blue drinks with a shot on the side. “Eight pounds, love, and let me know when you’ve finished. It’s buy one get one tonight!” Harry handed over the money with a word of thanks and took the shot. Feeling brave, he motioned Alyce closer.

“Can I buy a drink for Dragon? Is that something people do?” He asked, and Alyce threw her head back and laughed.

“I knew that’s why you came back!” She giggled, pushing on his shoulder gently. “You couldn’t take your eyes off of him last time… not that I blame you. He’s good at what he does.” Harry blushed, hoping that the darkness of the club covered his flaming cheeks. “He doesn’t drink, really. But he always comes over to me after his set is over. Why don’t you wait over here afterwards and ask him yourself?” She winked and bustled away to serve another customer, leaving Harry to make his way to the stage. He noticed the cage wasn’t up; maybe Malfoy wasn’t performing tonight. Maybe he’d get lucky and be able to enjoy himself without oogling Malfoy. 

Maybe....

Maybe he was dead wrong.

The music quieted, and everyone turned to the stage. Lights went down, and there he was, climbing the stairs in the shadows, getting situated right in the middle of the stage.

  
The stage.

The _stage._

Harry felt his heart speed up. This was so much closer than the cage. He was literally standing right next to the stage, and Malfoy was barely five feet away from him. He felt bodies jostling around him, everyone crowding around the stage.

The STAGE.

Suddenly, a single flood light flared to life and focused solely on Malfoy. With a toss of his head, he threw his long platinum hair over his shoulder and offered a quirky smile to the crowd, causing an uproar. Male and female patrons alike were screaming for him, jumping up and down, ready to watch the show. He looked around the crowd, eyes lighting on Harry for a split second, before turning back to the front. With a finger to his lips, he managed to quiet the crowd enough to begin speaking.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Malfoy called, and the crowd went crazy. Another finger to his lips, another silence fell. “Well, that sounds good. As you can see,” he gestured upwards, “No cage! What’s up with that?” His face pulled into a regretful pout, and Harry wanted to bite his lip…

Wait, what?

A chorus of boos rose from the crowd, and Malfoy dropped into an elegant crouch, resting his wrists on his knees and glanced around the people in front of him. “Not to worry, not to worry. I still have something fun planned for you all. Who wants to see a show?!” The response was deafening, and with a nod to the DJ, Malfoy rose to his feet and twirled around, his arms held wide. “Let’s get this party started!” With that, the stage flooded with a multitude of different colors and the music began again. 

This song was a little faster than the first song Harry saw Malfoy dancing to, but it was no less erotic. Malfoy was wearing a tight pair of pants patterned with skeleton legs, and they made his already long legs look that much longer. He had foregone his fishnet top and was simply wearing a leather vest, the front open and showing off his pale torso… there were no scars there, Harry noticed, his shock evident. Maybe he was also wearing a Glamour? There was no way that Sectumsempra didn’t scar him; there was so much blood…

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and took a gulp of his drink, eyes training back to Malfoy. He moved with a sophisticated grace, never off beat, always either smiling or singing along with the songs that played. It was enthralling, and all too soon, Harry realized the set was ending. Had he really been staring at Malfoy for a full hour? 

Probably.

With one last glance back at Malfoy, who was blowing kisses into the crowd, Harry journeyed back to the bar. Alyce gave him a knowing look, swapping out his empty glass for a full one.

“Enjoy the show?” She asked innocently. Harry choked into his drink, and looked at Alyce scathingly. “I’m just saying… pretty sure I could see your jaw on the floor from over here.” She laughed and looked over his head. “Oh look! Here he comes now!” Nearly dropping his drink this time, Harry took a deep breath and rested his elbows on the bar, staring into his drink. 

There was no way Malfoy would come up right next to him, right? 

There was a whole bar, he could go to any part of it.

Yeah, he’d probably go over to the more empty part… that would make sense.

What didn’t make sense was Malfoy sliding up right next to Harry, bumping arms, and smiling at Alyce. 

Because of course that’s what he’d do.

Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as Malfoy made eye contact with Alyce, then raised his hand into an “ok” sign and made two miniscule movements away from his mouth. 

What the hell was Malfoy playing at?

Alyce pulled a glass, filled it with ice, and grabbed a bottle of water from under her bar and set it on the counter, waving away the money Malfoy tried to set down. He brought his hand to his chin and pulled it down before grabbing the bottle, twisting the cap off, and pouring it into his cup. 

Suddenly it clicked, and Harry was even more confused. 

With a sudden surge of courage, Harry tapped Malfoy on the shoulder. Waiting until he turned to face him, Harry brought his index and middle fingers up to ear and tapped twice with a quizzical look on his face. Malfoy gave him a half smile, shook his head, and leaned in to speak into Harry’s ear.

“Not deaf,” his voice was low and ragged, “It’s just easier to sign when it’s loud and after I’ve been shouting and singing.” Pulling away, he gave Harry a full smile, then his eyes swept down, a look of appreciation crossing his face. Harry was, yet again, in a v-neck shirt, charcoal grey this time, and had worn the same dragonhide pants as last Friday. He flushed as Malfoy’s onceover.

“Ah… I see. A crucial skill, for sure.” Harry mentally facepalmed. Did he have to sound so uptight? Malfoy’s smile widened and he took a sip of his water, turning to face the dancefloor again. He truly had poise, almost inadvertently so. Harry found himself staring, again, and this time, he was caught. Malfoy cocked his head and held a hand out.

“I’m Dragon, but you knew that.” He grinned. Harry took the offered hand and shook, momentarily struck mute.

“James,” he got out finally, “I’m James. It’s nice to meet you.” Malfoy’s grin widened and he used their joined hands to pull Harry in close.

“Do you want to dance, James?” He purred into his ear. Harry swallowed.

“I… I don’t really dance,” he admitted, “I’m not very good.”

“Nonsense!” Malfoy threw back the last of his water and tugged Harry towards the dance floor. “Everyone can dance. You just have to feel the rhythm.” Harry looked helpless back at Alyce, who put a cover over his not yet finished drink before giving him a thumbs up. 

Traitor.

He turned back to Malfoy, who was pulling him through the throngs of people towards the center of the dancefloor. Once he was satisfied, he whirled to face Harry with a coy smile. “Come on.” His mouth brushed against Harry’s ear and the quiet words when straight to his groin. Willing his body not to respond too much, Harry strained to hear the music over his wildly thumping heart and tentatively began to move. Malfoy slotted his thigh in between Harry’s legs and pulled him close, one hand at the small of his back, the other coming up to run through his own long hair. “Feel the music,” he murmured, directing Harry’s movements.

Oh Merlin.

Harry was in a lot of trouble. 

“Like… like this?” Harry breathed, beginning to move with Malfoy, his body brushing against the blondes. Malfoy threw an arm around his neck and brought his mouth right against Harry’s ear, making him shiver.

“Relax, James. You’re so stiff. Feel the music. Dance _with_ me, not like we’re two separate beings.” He removed his arm and moved it down to Harry’s hip, directing him gently to sway with the beat. “There you go,” he murmured, “Just like that.” Without warning, Malfoy spun around and began to grind on him.

Harry felt his brain derail and ceased all movement.

Malfoy must have noticed it too (of course he had, he just stopped moving like an _idiot_ ) so he reached back, grabbed Harry’s hands, and placed them on his own hips. “Here, maybe it’ll be easier if you feel _me._ ” He began gyrating his hips, not fully flush against Harry’s, but enough that Harry could feel every brush of movement. 

Knowing that his face must be as red as a tomato, he was thankful that Malfoy was facing away from him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he began to move with Malfoy. One step to the left, one step to the right, dipping his hips back and forth as he moved. His hands gripped Malfoy’s hips momentarily, and Malfoy leaned back into him, allowing Harry to rest his head on his shoulder. Malfoy’s hair smelled good and was so soft. He pressed his nose into the hair just behind Malfoy’s ear and inhaled deeply. Some sort of fruit? Whatever it was, it was divine.

“See, you’ve got this.” Malfoy turned his head towards Harry’s, his nose trailing up Harry’s cheek. “Feel the music. Lose yourself. Just let go.” 

Harry wanted to let go.

Harry wanted to let go so badly.

It was just a matter of turning his head just slightly, and his lips would brush against Malfoy’s, and he would finally know what it felt like.

He had been obsessed since 6th year.

He had only let himself accept it once he and Ginny had their big fight and she had proved that the feelings Harry had towards Malfoy weren’t completely hatred.

And Harry was still too nervous to do anything.

“Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Malfoy’s voice brought him crashing down out of his thoughts.

“W-wand?” He stammered, attempting to take a step back from Malfoy. Malfoy just turned around and placed his thigh back between Harry’s legs.

“This is a Muggle club, James. What are you doing here?” Malfoy’s cool grey eyes caught Harry’s Glamoured brown and kept the eye contact.

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Harry tried to say, but Malfoy nudged closer to him, brushing his own hardness against Harry’s, eliciting a gasp from the dark haired man.

“Well, James, first things first, I know you’re a wizard.” The eye contact still hadn’t been broken, and Harry felt incredibly overwhelmed. “The magic you exude is extremely powerful, especially around so many non-magical beings.” Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Harry’s ear, making him shiver. “Second thing… I saw you last Friday watching me. I saw you run away. And I can _feel_ ,” he ground himself into Harry’s front, “that I excite you. So the question becomes…” He trailed his hands up Harry’s neck and tangled them in the thick curls. His mouth curled into a smile and he gently grazed Harry’s lips with his own. “Are you coming back next Friday?” 

He may as well have cast a full body-bind curse on Harry with how still he went. Malfoy pulled his hands away and blew him a kiss as he made his way through the writhing figures on the dancefloor, leaving Harry alone and stunned.

Was that considered a kiss?

  
Did Malfoy kiss him?

Did Malfoy… want him?

He would definitely be back next Friday.


	2. Draco POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco loved dancing at The Castle, and enjoyed the attention he received. But of course, Potter had to come along and ruin it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is basically the exact same chapter as 1, only from Draco's POV and with his thoughts on the whole thing. You have to have both sides!

* * *

Honestly, it was only supposed to be a few times.

When Carl had approached him, stating his dancing was otherworldly and that he would love for Draco to be on his stage, it had given him such a high.

He enjoyed the goth nights to no end at The Castle - a night away from magic, the Manor, anything that could possibly tie him to the wizarding world.

Until _that_ Friday.

He had been dancing for a good couple of months, and had fallen into a great routine. He had specific moves for certain songs, and he could judge the crowd and knew what days would be best as slow and sensual, fast and hot, or somewhere in a delightful medium.

He relished the control he had on the patrons of The Castle. It was a Muggle club. No one knew the Malfoy name. No one knew what the Dark Mark meant - most of the people who commented on it were impressed with the craftsmanship, and asked who the artist was. 

It was with sick pleasure that Draco informed each and every person who asked that the artist was dead and that the tattoo on his arm was the last Mark he’d ever make.

That fucking Friday…

Draco geared up for his set, excited for the crowd. He spoke idly with Alyce, revealing he was planning on leading with the song Flesh since that seemed to be a unanimous favorite. She agreed with him wholeheartedly, and suggested using the Cage. Draco didn’t mind the Cage; it wasn’t his favorite but it did allow the people watching a lovely view of his toned arse. 

Making a last minute change to his set wasn’t unheard of, and Carl was more than happy to oblige Draco - he was, after all, the reason why Fridays suddenly became more popular. 

But he can’t have nice things for long, now can he?

It was an unfortunate truth in his life. He had the worst luck. Voldemort living in his home, leaving behind dark, tainted magic that seeped into the walls of the Manor, making it nearly unlivable. His parents both passing away within a year of each other - his father in Azkaban, his mother in the Manor of a supposed broken heart. And of course, arguably the worst luck, was Harry Potter snuffing him at eleven and then the subsequent years of their unbridled rivalry.

He had forgiven Potter, of course. Having spoken at his trials, providing his memories for the Wizingamot to pardon Draco and his mother from a more intense sentence, and even giving his wand back with a wry smile after his house arrest had ended - Potter had done more than enough to deserve his forgiveness. That didn’t mean they were friends and met up for tea every week though; oh no. It only meant that when they saw each other in public that they were civil and exchanged a nod and possibly a few words in greeting. They weren’t tripping over themselves to chat.

So why was Potter standing right by the stage, staring up at Draco as though he was the most interesting thing on the planet?

His set has just started. He had gone through the beginning of the song - perfectly choreographed, his dips and steps on beat and immaculate. Allowing himself to get lost in the song, he began singing along, over-exaggerating his mouth so that the crowd knew what he was saying. He scanned the crowd, watching with rapt attention as people either stared up at him in adoration or danced along with him, grinding on their partners.

Then suddenly, icy grey eyes met bottle green and Draco’s world stopped for a split second.

Draco was used to things happening. Bad things. Weird things. One time, someone didn’t properly hook the Cage up to the ceiling harness and both Cage and Draco had come crashing down - Draco managed to cast a silent, wandless cushioning charm without anyone noticing, and assured Carl he wouldn’t sue the club. Another time, a rabid fan of his had rushed the stage and nearly molested him - luckily, the bouncers caught her right away. She was banned from the club and, yet again, Carl was assured he wasn’t about to be sued. 

This was entirely different.

This was Potter.

Childhood nemesis.

A main factor in most of Draco’s teenage wanking fantasies.

Oh, who was he kidding - he still had those fantasies to this day.

Draco was not prepared for this.

Fuck.

A small falter and Draco was back on his game, making a point not to glance towards where the man with green eyes was standing. 

He was a professional, after all.

Maybe he would find Potter after his set and demand to know why he was there.

Maybe he would try to mind his own business, for once in his life.

His set felt like it was over faster than usual. The cheers and screams were received with a gracious smile and a small bow, his eyes darting around the crowd, looking for Potter. 

Ah, there he was. The unruly mop of hair that was so pointedly Potter was heading towards Alyce’s bar.

He could join him, of course. He could climb down from the Cage, sidle up to Alyce, get his after-dancing water, and make idle small talk with one Harry Potter.

Or he could be a coward and stare at Potter’s back as he talked and laughed with Alyce. 

That was definitely the better plan.

At something Alyce said, Potter looked around wildly, looking just like a caged animal.

Well, wasn’t that interesting.

Draco started making his way to the bar and Potter disappeared so suddenly that he would have assumed he Apparated if they weren’t in a Muggle club. “Where’d your friend go?” He hollered to Alyce over the music, taking the offered water bottle with a grateful smile.

“Oh him? He’s a newbie! Seemed super interested in you.” A coy smile crossed her face as Draco nearly choked on his water. Was Potter here as an Auror? Was this some kind of sting operation?

Not that Draco was doing anything illegal, but the fear of being arrested was still very fresh in his mind.

“Really,” he sputtered, “What kind of… interested?” A million scenarios ran through his head. Someone had given the Auror’s a tip that Draco was here, selling Dark items to Muggles. Imperio’d the club owner to become a dancer. Started some weird, underground orgy…

“Stop thinking so much!” Alyce chastised, giving him a little smack on his arm. “Interested like… _interested_.” She fluttered her eyelashes, making Draco blush furiously. Potter was interested… in him? 

That seemed entirely too good to be true.

“Did he say if he would be returning?” Trying to look bored, he took another drink of his water and looked over the dance floor, surveying the other club-goers. They all seemed to be having a good time, and were completely oblivious to Draco’s internal struggle. Once he left the Cage or the stage, he was usually left alone and treated as any other attendee.

“Maybe!” Alyce shrugged noncommittally. “I did give him one of your flyers and he couldn’t tear his eyes away…” 

“Wench!” He spat fondly, rolling his eyes. “Well, I suppose we’ll just see, won’t we?” Alyce chuckled with a nod, and turned to serve someone who had just come up to the bar.

Seven days. He could do this and not obsess.

No really, he could.

* * *

He couldn’t not obsess.

He knew that in his core, knew it down in the deepest recesses of his mind.

  
It was always Potter.

It would always come back to Potter.

There was this gravitational pull, of sorts.

Red string of fate, perhaps?

Draco decided on a standard stage set for the following Friday. The Cage was fun, but if Potter was going to be in the crowd again, he wanted to give him something to remember. The black skinny jeans with skeleton bones down the legs accentuated his assets nicely, and paired with his favorite leather vest, he knew that it would be a show-stopping look for anyone watching.

He arrived at the Castle early, scoping out the crowd. It didn’t seem different than any other Friday, and he thought he saw Potter speaking with Alyce at her main bar. He stealthily walked around the perimeter of the club, and almost laughed aloud. It was definitely Potter, but he had to be wearing a partial Glamour. His hair was recognizable, even with the Glamoured eyes and the non-existent scar. Draco narrowed his eyes, watching as he spoke with Alyce easily, acting as though they were old friends. 

So this was the game Potter wanted to play?

Fine.

That could be easily handled.

Once he had located not-Potter, he hurried to find Carl to discuss the set he had planned for the night. The stage was set and ready; all that needed to be considered was the music and color of the lights, which was quickly rectified. 

At the top of the hour, as discussed, the lights went down and Draco made his way to the center of the stage. He raised his left hand in a flat palm and brought his right hand, which was in the thumb’s up position, down across the palm - a sign the gaffer knew to mean “begin”. The flood light flared to life, illuminating Draco and casting the rest of the stage into darkness. He tossed his hair over his shoulder and threw on his best smile. Instantly, the patrons were laser-focused on him, cheering and jumping, pumping their fists, a slow chant of DRAGON-DRAGON-DRAGON filling the hall. His eyes lit upon Potter for a second and noticed him watching with a drink in his hand. Potter was right in the front row; he had to be less than five feet away. 

This was going to be fun.

A finger to his lips, and the crowd quieted down enough for him to speak - it wasn’t like he could use a Sonorous in a Muggle club. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” He called, and as he thought, the crowd went insane. Another finger to his lips, and the crowd grew quiet again, allowing him to continue. “Well, that sounds good. As you can see,” he gestured upwards, “No cage! What’s up with that?” He pulled on his most picturesque pout, and noticed Potter shiver out of the corner of his eye. 

Yes, this was already going according to plan.

The crowd booed, as he knew they would, and after what he considered an appropriate amount of complaint, he knelt into a crouch and crossed his wrists across his raised knee. “Not to worry, not to worry. I still have something fun planned for you all. Who wants to see a show?!” As expected the crowd roared its approval, and he rose to his feet and spun around, showing himself off and spreading his arms out wide. “Let’s get this party started!” At the agreed-upon phrase, the stage flooded with lights and Draco was off. 

He danced with the finesse of someone who had been doing it their whole life. Music was his kryptonite, and always had been. Even as a child taking ballroom dance lessons at the Manor, he knew how to move and sway to many types of music, classical or otherwise. He knew what he looked like and how certain moves would elongate his elegant limbs, and did everything he could to enhance himself. He lost himself in the music, almost forgetting his plan of enticing Potter, as the beat grew heavier and the music fluctuated. 

Being lost in the music, it seemed sudden that the last few notes of his final song were playing. He swept himself into a low bow and blew a few kisses to the crowd,and watched as Potter made his way to Alyce’s bar - exactly where Draco wanted him to be.

Draco took a deep breath as he walked down the stairs of the stage, watching Alyce and Potter’s interaction. She had just switched his drink out and said something that caused him to stiffen …

She made eye contact with Draco and winked.

Ah, she had told Potter that he was on his way over.

The saucy little minx.

He made sure to brush against Potter’s arm as he completed his normal ritual of asking Alyce for a water using sign language. This time, it wasn’t just because his voice was hoarse from his performance; oh no. This was its own special performance - something he was putting on specifically for Potter.

And Potter noticed. When he tapped Draco’s shoulder and made the sign for ‘Deaf?’, he could have shouted his success from the rooftops.

“Not deaf,” he spoke directly into Potter’s ear, “It’s just easier to sign when it’s loud and after I’ve been shouting and singing.” He appraised Potter, letting his eyes sweep across the broad chest and tight dragonhide pants, not hiding the desire in his eyes. Yes, he had dreamed of having Potter above him, around him, tangled up in him, but he never thought they’d make it further than dreams.

This was quickly becoming too good to be true, but he was going to push it for all it was worth.

He allowed Potter to stumble over his words for a moment, sipping his water and watching the dance floor. Should he invite Potter out to dance, only to take him home at the end of the night? Or should he keep him wanting more…

Draco felt Potter’s eyes on his, and decided to take action. Cocking his head, he held a hand out, grinning. “I’m Dragon, but you knew that.” Potter took the hand automatically, but took a moment before responding.

“James. I’m James.” Draco kept his laughter to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.” So Potter was going to keep up the pretense that he WASN’T Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, hanging out at a club. That was fine. Draco enjoyed the hunt.

“Do you want to dance, James?” Though Draco had seen the disaster of him dancing with one of the Patil twins at the Yule Ball, he still wanted to push Potter as far as he could. After all, he hadn’t danced the last time he was at the club, so maybe he needed a little persuasion…

“I don’t really dance.” That was the response Draco had been waiting for. Taking his last drink of water, he grabbed onto Potter’s _very_ muscular bicep - damn, being an Auror did him all the favors, didn’t it - and pulled him into the middle of the throbbing bodies on the dance floor. He saw Potter look back at Alyce, probably hoping she’d rescue him, but Alyce had always been on Draco’s side. She simply placed a cover over Potter’s unfinished drink and gave him a thumbs up. 

Once they had navigated to the center of the dance floor, Draco forced his thigh in between Potter’s legs and pulled him in close; one hand gripping his back, and the other tangled in his own hair. Draco was extremely confident in his body, and that translated to the dance floor, no matter if he was doing a solo set on stage or dancing with a partner. Potter was stiff, but with a few pushes and prods, he began to move. “Feel the music,” Draco instructed, his hand tightening on Potter’s back.

“Like… like this?” Potter began to match Draco’s swaying, their bodies close enough to brush against each other. Taking the hand that was previously running through his own hair, Draco brought it around Potter’s neck and leaned in closer, reveling in the shiver that ran through his body.

“Relax, James,” he soothed, “You’re so stiff. Feel the music. Dance _with_ me, not like we’re two separate beings.” He placed both hands on Potter’s hips, and began to sway them side to side. “There you go, just like that.” It was time to up the ante. Draco spun and plastered his back to Potter’s front, and began to grind on him in earnest.

Potter _stopped moving_ , the absolute bellend.

Cursing internally, Draco reached back and grabbed at Potter’s hands, bringing them to his own waist. “Here, maybe it’ll be easier if you feel _me._ ” He began to slowly gyrate his hips, willing Potter not to bolt. He could feel the other man’s discomfort, but hopefully the liquid courage he had been drinking before would kick in soon. Alyce’s drinks were very strong.

After several moments, he felt Potter begin to move with him. Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Draco leaned more heavily into Potter and enjoyed the warmth of their combined bodies. Feeling Potter’s head on his shoulder was a surprise, but even more surprising was the feeling of Potter’s nose rubbing against his hair. Draco felt his breath catch in his throat, and hoped that Potter hadn’t noticed. 

“See, you’ve got this.” He turned his head, his own nose now trailing up Potter’s cheek, coming terrifyingly close to his lips. “Feel the music. Lose yourself. Just let go.”

Draco’s nerves were alive with focused energy. While this whole situation started as a joke, he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore. He _wanted_ Potter. _Wanted_ to feel that hard body above him. _Wanted_ to feel Potter’s warm lips against his. _Wanted_ to feel the burning pressure of Potter’s cock sliding into him…

And there it was, a hard presence pressing into Draco’s arse. 

Potter seemed to want it just as much as Draco.

But Potter had been drinking, and Draco had not, and he was not about to take advantage of The Boy Who Lived, no matter how much he wanted it.

Years ago, maybe he would have.

Now, though?

Now, Draco was relatively well-adapted, out of his father’s shadow, living his life the way he pleased. He was still a snarky arsehole, but he was in no way a predator. 

He’d have to lure Potter back and make a move next time.

“Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” He cringed inwardly at the pickup line, but it had the effect he wanted - Potter froze and began to stammer. Draco turned around and placed his thigh back between Potter’s legs, drinking in the green eyes, almost absent thanks to his blown-out pupils. Yes, this was the right choice, but it was so difficult not to give into his sexual desire. “This is a Muggle club, James. What are you doing here?” Draco held his breath. Would he admit that he was actually Harry Potter? Would he run off?

“I… I don’t know what you mean.” That answered that question - so he would lie. Draco still had a chance.

“Well, James, first things first, I know you’re a wizard.” The eye contact was intoxicating, but he willed himself to stay calm and poised. “The magic you exude is extremely powerful, especially around so many non-magical beings.” Not a complete lie; he could definitely feel the tingle of Potter’s magic, but it wasn’t any greater than his own. Taking a chance, he leaned closer and breathed into Potter’s ear, relishing in the shiver it caused. “Second thing,” he continued, “I saw you last Friday, watching me. I saw you run away. And I can _feel_ ,” he ground himself into Potter, brushing their twin erections together, “that I excite you. So the question becomes…” He brought his hands up, fingertips teasing Potter’s sensitive skin, and tangled his fingers through the thick curls at the base of his neck. He smiled playfully, and allowed his lips to gently caress Potter’s. “Are you coming back next Friday?”

He felt Potter stiffen, and drew away from him, eyes yet again sweeping from head to toe. Blowing a kiss, he turned and disappeared through the bodies on the dance floor, hopefully leaving Potter with something to think about.

The kiss they shared - scant as it may have been - set all of Draco’s nerves alight. He wanted Potter, possibly more than he had ever wanted anyone else. 

Making a mental note to speak to Carl about a shorter set next week, he watched from the shadows as Potter brought a hand to his lips, his cheeks flushed red, before he turned and made his way to the club’s exit.

Now, all Draco had to do was hope that he had made the right impression on Potter.

Merlin, but he couldn’t wait until next Friday.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a bug in my ear about Draco being a gothy go-go dancer for the longest time so I came up with this relatively short story to see where it led. I may end up continuing it, but I'm not fully sure.
> 
> The first song Draco dances to in the cage is Flesh by Simon Curtis.
> 
> The Sign Language is BSL, as close as I can approximate in words. I did my best! 
> 
> You can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/twistedhallows) or [Tumblr](https://twistedhallows.tumblr.com)! I'm basically everywhere as TwistedHallows so I'm sure you'll find me :)


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